Shadow
by Nezkov Sou
Summary: AU.Oneshot. A young man lives in torment under the claws of the evil inside him. He seeks peace in the church but finds out that even Father cannot cleanse his tainted soul. Because his God is the shadow casted when light shines upon him.


**Shadow**

**Author: Nezkov Sou**

**Fandom:** Eyeshield 21 © Inagaki Riichiro and Murata Yusuke

**Pairing:** Not who you (or anyone) think it is.

**Important Warning! : **This fanfiction contains religious subjects, so if you are offended by it, please do NOT read. I am not a religious person so I do not know entirely about it even with my research. I will not tolerate flames regarding this because I have told you beforehand.

**A/n:** The subject of this story is rather heavy and strange. And I like it.

**A/n 2:** Thought you'd never see me on this fandom again after Veil of Dusk? You thought wrong.

* * *

19th Century

The moon was full, half hidden behind the shy clouds of night, bright in contrast to the sky. Cold, quiet, almost dead. The streets were a complete silent at the outskirts of town. Shops were closed, residents basking in their sleep awaiting tomorrow. In the empty road, one single soul treaded the gravel.

He emerged like a shadow, unnoticed by any living beings that might take a peak from behind the drawn curtains. A young man, in his adolescence, not reaching his second decade as of yet. Despite of that, he was rather small-built for his age, scrawny even, as if the life out of him had been sucked out. The pure white dress shirt clung onto his frame almost like a robe that hung midway to his similarly skinny thighs which were hidden beneath pure black pants. Dark brown hair was swept back naturally. His face was sharp and held none of the chubbiness of young boys; rather, he appeared too thin, his slightly tanned skin a shade lighter than how it had to be. The honey brown eyes which _used to _sparkle with a boyish charm were now dull orbs staring into the distant world.

His footsteps were soft but swift, almost mechanical without his own conscious will. As he walked down the road, he noticed the street light flickering. He stood still, watching the yellow glow with his unsmiling eyes. The lamp lit up for a moment, casting his shadow in the patch of bright light on the ground. The young man brought his gaze onto his twitching shadow and showed no reaction when the dark face split into an empty grin and turned to watch him.

_Are you heading there, my dear?_

The words echoed in his mind, the voice a familiarity that he had now seldom hear. Soft, light, and still carried the air of youth. It was his voice. _His own _voice. The young man ignored the shadow's smirk and instead, bent down to pick up a rock that was about the size of his fist.

_Now, that's not really clever._

Without hesitation, the young man pitched the rock onto the street light. A resounding shatter sounded and he was bathed in complete darkness except for the dim moonlight. He continued forward as if nothing had happened. He was used to it by now. So used to it that he had forgotten when it had all started. What did he do to create this? He could not be sure. Further down, he reached the open area. The grass swayed in the cold air, making a small rustling noise. There were no creatures around.

The young man strode on, eyes only on the small modest building ahead. The church. He was not a fanatic like his mother, but he was not an atheist either. The thought of knowing that someone high up there was looking after him comforted him whenever he was in a pinch. Of course no one had proven the existence of God, but he was contented enough with his decent beliefs. He would not join in the debate between Religion and Science, preferring to roam around free like his father.

Entering the church, he was not surprised to find it perfectly clear of any other people – he had decided to come at this time to avoid people. He ignored the surroundings, preferring not to look at anything but what he wanted. With his smooth even steps, he crossed the room to the confessional and entered the small cubicle. He did not even check if there was anyone behind the grid lattice and sat. Because he _knew _that someone was indeed there. He had been visiting the confessional nearly every night for years since _it _had begun.

For a long while, he sat in silence, not a single word was heard from both persons in each compartment. The young man had his hands clasped on his knees loosely, body straight and rigid, dull eyes on the wall ahead of him. The grid was on his right side but he appeared to take no notice of it. This was a routine. He would be quiet throughout the confession, occasionally slipping a word or two, but most of the time he preferred to just _be _there. However today, he felt the need to speak after having clamped his mouth shut for a whole month about this matter.

"Forgive me . . ." his voice was hushed from lack of use and it sounded strange to him, as if it was not his voice. "Forgive me Father, for I not know what I have sinned to receive this punishment. This torture sent by an unknown force that I am not enough to face. I am weak. Perhaps this weakness is my sin." He fell into a pause, throat feeling uncomfortable. That had been the longest he had spoken so far.

The young man continued to sit there, satisfied with staring at his shoes and knowing that someone was beside him behind the grid. A long moment passed before he said, "Thank you" and stood to leave.

He mingled longer in the church, sitting on one of the front bench, staring at the altar. He had never really attended morning mass or any other, had never heard the chorus or orchestra, had never seen the High Priest in charge of the church. The silence was perfect, a peace that he needed so badly. If he could, he would stay in the church forever until his last breath, because under the roof of the church, the Shadow was overpowered and it remained quiet as death, unable to make the slightest fight against the holy forces. It sounded unbelievable and fake, but the young man knew better. In fact, he was the container of the Shadow.

Truth be told, the Shadow attached itself unto him when he was thirteen. At that time, he had found his grandfather's memento: an iron box with rusty copper trims, and the moment he clicked the lid open, black waves shot out and strangled him. He could have died, actually thought that he _would _die. But he did not. And instead, the Shadow had resided in his body, taking over his shadow and reflections. The him in the other reflected world was not him anymore. Before long – the Shadow had put it clear – it would kill his consciousness and take his body. The Shadow promised him that.

The young man no longer shuddered at the thought. It was as if he had come to terms with it and had long passed the times when he feared the Shadow. Not batting his eyelashes, he got to his feet and headed out. His mother would be worried if she woke up in the middle of the night and found her only son missing. His parents knew of this Shadow, but there was nothing they could do. No matter how much his mother prayed for his well being, the Shadow remained within him. She was genuinely concerned – even worried herself sick – and he did not want that. He had the desire of telling them that the Shadow was gone, that he was fine, that everything was okay again, but the mere thought of lying to his parents put the entire idea off. Nobody other than him could see or hear the Shadow even when it was manipulating his reflection and whispering nightmares. He considered it a good thing. His mother would have fainted.

Right, he should be returning home now and sneak in without getting caught. The church had given him the peace for him to sleep tonight. Good enough. He had adjusted pretty well with this small dark life.

As his figure retreated into the picture of the town, the Father who had been in the confessional every time this young man visited, stood at the door, arms crossed over his pure white robe, a golden chain with a silver cross pendant hung from his neck. He let his emerald eyes trail after the young man until he was completely hidden in the dark before stepping into the church again, his blond hair appearing lighter in colour by the numerous candles that lined the walls, the grim expression staying on his pale face.

* * *

"Good morning, Sena. Did you sleep well?"

Sena nodded at his mother, offering a smile. He tugged on his cap and walked towards the door, bag slung over his shoulder. "I will be on my way," he whispered softly, not liking the way his voice sounded. It felt strange to him, so similar to the voice of the Shadow. Perhaps it was _its _voice, not his.

"Don't you want some breakfast?" his mother said, a flash of concern whipped her face.

Sena shook his head, dark brown hair fluttering with the motion. He gave another smile before making his way out, not trusting his throat to speak. He often wondered if his parents felt the oddity of his voice. Or was it just his paranoia? The moment he stepped into the bright daylight, his shadow on the ground wavered and twisted, creeping towards him and smirking openly.

_Soon, my dear, I will take your body._

The young man ignored the Shadow, mind set on getting to his destination and living a normal life. Before long, he found himself at the office, taking his share of newspaper to be distributed. There was no warm welcome, nor were there cold shoulders. Sena had been dubbed as the quiet boy at the back of the class in school, and the obedient office boy at work. Of course, he did not have any friends, all too busy with their own lives or ignoring Sena altogether. He was fine with that.

Throughout the day, the Shadow was quiet, except for a few hushed whispers in its tongue and cackles from its split smirk. The Shadow was not as strong as it was at night than during the day, though it did not make much difference. Sena had once wondered how it could be trapped in that rusty old box but when he went back to his grandfather's memento, he could not find anything special about it. Indeed, it was just an old box.

Soon, nightfall seeped in. Sena stepped into the church; the small yellow flames of the candles flickered, making his already pale face look ill and death-like. He was aware of how terrible he looked just by thinking but he had long forgotten how his face actually was. The mirror in his room had been thrown out and he refused to even glance into any other mirrors or smooth surface. Just like the shadows, what lie in the other world was not him. It was the twisted Shadow smirking its sick smile at him. However, he did try to look presentable by running his fingers through his hair, making sure he scrubbed his body clean every day and wearing neat clothes. He had been tainted enough. There was no need for him to stoop lower.

Sena settled himself in the confessional, stiff as a board, eyes staring ahead. Unlike popular beliefs, there were no thoughts in his mind. People assumed that he was a deep-thinker, always having something in his mind to digest. They were wrong. He only had a state of blankness.

"If you're going to sit here all night, you might as well go home and sleep."

Sena snapped his head up upon hearing the unfamiliar voice. It was not his voice, not its voice. The voice was coarse, manly and sharp, one that he had never heard before. He gave a brief glance at the grid beside him and through the small gaps, he caught a glimpse of white robe. Father.

"This is the confessional, the place for you to speak your thoughts and sins, not silence."

"Father . . ." Sena whispered, shoulders slumping as if all of his energy had been drained. Unconsciously, he leaned back, his body relaxing. This was the first time Father had talked to him and it felt kind of . . . calming to know that someone was actually listening to him. "Even if I speak of my sins, nothing can be done to cleanse my dirty soul."

"Do you not believe in God?"

"I would not be here if I do not." Sena had his fingers entwined together, dark bangs over his closed eyes. "There is no hope, no salvation. I will accept this punishment if that is what He desire to befall upon me."

There was a short pause before Father spoke again, "Speak your sins."

Without thinking, Sena shook his head, a small smile creeping up his lips. It felt strained. "My weakness. In this world, the strong survives, the weak perishes."

A short silence fell into place, enveloping the two men. It was another few minutes when Father spoke in a hard tone. "Get out."

Sena blinked and glanced up at the grid lattice. He heard the soft creak of the door hinge followed by a thump. Then footsteps and his door was pulled open. Sena jerked to attention, whipping his head up at the figure standing outside the confessional. Emerald eyes bore into him.

"Step out of there."

As if on autopilot, Sena gingerly stood and followed Father to the benches. The man – Father – was tall, and clad in the pure robe, the golden trims fluttering with ease, not touching the floor and the stole with similar trimmings hung loosely down his shoulders. A silver cross held another stole, which hugged the shoulders, to the front of his alb. Blond hair adorned his head, and with the pale complexion and overall white hue, the sharp green eyes stood out. Father took a seat and patted the space beside him, "Sit."

Sena compiled, his body going unnaturally rigid and formal. His dull honey eyes gazed ahead at the painted glass of the church, noting the various colours. Red, blue, green, yellow. So many colours but they did not look colourful.

"Forget God for now," Father reclined on the bench, one leg crossing over the other, "Tell me what this punishment you were saying about is."

"What is that manner of speaking?" Sena found himself snapping at the man, disregarding that this was Father, "How can you be rude to Him?"

"I told you to ignore that. Right now we aren't the priest and penitent. We're just two people trying to get a conversation going."

That seemed to stop Sena from spewing whatever his blank mind wanted to say. He looked away, unable to hold the eye contact. "You wouldn't believe me even if I say it. Only God will understand." He made to stand and leave but a hand caught his wrist.

"Who told you to _try _to leave?"

Sena narrowed his eyes at the blonde, "I have every right to come and leave as I well please." He wrenched his hand away, keeping his frowning dark eyes on those unreadable emerald shards. It took all his courage to hold the eye contact for less than a minute and when the will power crumbled, Sena hurried out of the church, not giving a glance back even when he felt his black cap blown off by the wind.

All the street lights were out but whenever he rushed pass an area lit by the moonlight he could hear the echoing laughter of the Shadow. Not words. Maniacal laughter. He did not understand what but the warning bells in his head had rung so loud when he looked into those emerald eyes. Something so strong beneath those shards, so immense and powerful that Sena felt his knees going weak and if he had stayed any longer, he would succumb to the floor. No matter how much he told himself that that man was the Father, he found himself fearing under an invisible threat. Sena was merely a human, indeed. And all humans feared the supernatural that they could not see with their God-given eyes.

* * *

He dropped onto the bed in exhaustion. Why did he run? Run from the Father? Sena was not an aggressive person nor did he hold grudge. Unfortunately though, he was the very definition of kindness and politeness. He placed people before him in priority and he would not care if he was the one hurt as long as someone else was spared. This character of him often got him into unwanted trouble, being picked on for his _weakness. _

Sena shuddered at the thought, hands clutching onto the bed sheet. Weakness. Kindness. Were they the same? He felt bitter on his tongue. He curled up into a ball, whispering in his head to go to sleep. After the long years of being haunted by the Shadow, Sena had developed the ability to blank out of his own accord. And he did just that. Falling into the abyss of sleep and waiting for tomorrow to arrive.

But tonight, it was not the same.

_My dear, my love. Wake up._

His body twitched and honey brown eyes blinked, glazed with sleep. Sena sat up, his backbone aching from the posture he had been sleeping in. Dark brown hair stuck up in a mess, shoulders slumped and head throbbing.

_Stand, my dear._

Sena stood up groggily.

_Now draw the curtains back; those wretched blinds._

The snickering echoed in his ears. Sena staggered forward in a state of hypnotized. Slowly, his hand held onto the curtains and tugged in sideways. It was still night time and the full moon blazed in the sky, unhidden, proud and smirking its Cheshire smile. Sena stared long at the floating glow of light. When was the last time since he stargazed?

Behind him, his casted shadow wavered and rose from the ground, twisting into a figure, solid and real. Fading into its colours and standing on the same small dark patch on Sena's feet.

_Look at the moon, its brightness. Pure white, hm? Finally, my love. We will be one. Turn around and look. Let me embrace you._

Sena did as he was told, eyes still half-lidded as he gazed at the figure before him. Who was it? The figure was about the same height as him, had dark brown hair that contrasted with his deathly pale skin which appeared almost a shade of grey and those pupils . . . ah . . . what perfect full moons. Glowing golden, practically white. The lips were pale and as they parted, gleaming canines smirked.

"Thank you, love," long slender fingers caressed the side of Sena's face and he felt sleep tickling him again. "Come here."

Not really thinking, Sena stepped into the outstretched arms, resting his head on the person's shoulder, his arms encircling and holding onto the slick black robe. In his giddy state, he whispered, "Who are you?"

A chuckle was heard as the hug was returned. That voice, that snicker, so familiar. "Don't you recognize me? I am the one who made you into who you are now. I am your creator, your hope, your salvation. I am the only one you can rely on and I will help you until the very end. All the blessings, all the curses, all the stories you have gone through, those are my words. Think, Sena my love. You know who I am. Up till now, we have never met, but you have listened to my voice. I was always by your side. You know me."

Sena closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh, letting his body fit perfectly with the man's. "Are you God?"

"I am _your _God."

"God . . ." Sena breathed the word out.

"But I do not like being called _God_" the man whispered into Sena's ear and placed a small kiss on the exposed neck, "Call me _Shadow._"

* * *

Sena awoken with a start, eyes snapping open so fast, he swore that he could feel pain on his eyelids. The ceiling blinked back at him. He sat up and glanced around his room and when he found nothing peculiar or out of place, he slid his legs over the side of his bed, wincing at the aching of his body and decided that he just had the weirdest dream ever.

Splashing water onto his face, Sena reached for the towel he had put aside. God and Shadow. He must have been exhausted last night. Sena chuckled to himself, having dried his face and dressed in fresh white dress shirt and a pair of dark brown suspenders clipped onto the waistline of his black pants. Another day. Morning routine: get the bundle of newspapers from the office, run around the town, and go to work in the mill by the time the sun is up. Perhaps he should find a room of his own and move out. He should not burden his parents any longer. Sena made a mental note to look for a room after his work.

He turned to exit but when his hand reached for the door knob, he froze. A sudden impulse of wanting to know how he looked urged into him. He swallowed and frowned in thought. Then bracing himself, Sena threw a sideway glance at the mirror hung on the wall and had to hold in the gasp he was about to let out.

Gazing at him through half-lidded glowing eyes, Shadow smirked back at him. That pale complexion, that scruffy dark hair, that arrogant air around him. It was the same Shadow Sena had seen in his _dream. _Unless that was not a dream.

"Yes, my dear," the pale lips moved, "I am right here."

"Impossible" Sena whispered to himself, dark coffee brown pupils shaking. The fact that Shadow was his reflection did not shock him. It was the fact that the previous night was real that caught his breath. Shadow had stood before him. Shadow had touched him. Shadow had embraced him. Hesitantly, he brought up his hand and touched the smooth surface, "You—"

Pale hand held his tan fingers and Sena watched in blank fear as Shadow leaned out of the mirror and placed a soft peck on his knuckles. "What is it, love? What is it do you fear? You have no fear of me. You should not. I will never harm you. Which God harms his believer, hm?"

"You are not God."

"Of course. I am Shadow." Shadow chuckled, the low rumble tickling the knuckles. It released Sena's hand and retreated back into the reflected world. "Fear not, my love. We have become one."

Ignoring Shadow, Sena strode out of the bathroom, slamming the door in his desperate attempt to escape. But true to its words, Sena felt no fear in his chest. Instead, when he heard the snickering in his mind, his heart pounded faster than usual and blood rushed up to his cheeks.

The day flew by in a flurry of dull colours and noises. Sena found himself walking down the familiar gloomy road, the full moon behind him burning in pride. His dull eyes travelled down to the shape on the gravel. His shadow morphed around, twisting and stretching its limbs and sneering at him with that hollow mouth. Shadow was unusually talkative and active tonight.

_Sena, Sena, my dear, my love, my everything. How long have I waited for this night to come. How long. Finally we are one, are you not delighted? This night, this night, we shall tread the same road, sharing the same dream ahead. Oh, I cannot be happier._

"Why don't you come out from there? And walk with me here?" Sena spoke the question out without thinking, almost inaudible but with the ringing silence of the area, his voice was clear.

Shadow stopped in place, unmoving. Then the smirk broke its empty features again.

_It is not time, my love._

His autopilot feet brought Sena to the church again. At the back of his mind, he hoped to not meet the Father again. He just wanted a time of peace in the confessional like how he used to have. Why must Father speak to him? And speak of God in _that _rude way? Sena closed his eyes and heaved out a soft sigh. He made his way inside and noticed how eerily quiet the church actually was. How did he not realize it? His footsteps made not a single scrap. The candles burned at the aisles, studying his movements with every flicker. Just as he was across the room, ten feet away from the confessional, he froze. The quiet whispers in his head intensified and his heart thumped loudly. He was not sure how or why, but he could _feel _a presence somewhere in this room. Was it Father? Was he in the confessional? Biting back his urge to run tail between legs, Sena continued his way to the small wooden booth.

"No one's in there."

Sena whirled around and tripped on his foot, stumbling onto the bench. Near the altar, Father stood, gleaming emerald eyes trained on his lithe form. A thousand words exploded in his mind but he did not understand even a single one. The only sound that he knew was the screeches of warning bells shrilling in his ears.

"Figured you were carrying something around; I wasn't wrong at all. Not at all." Father moved from the altar and walked towards the trembling man. "The power was submerged but now I can feel it strong and burning. Well, well. You have given up yourself to this dark evil."

"W-what are you talking about?" Sena whimpered, scooting away from the approaching priest when his legs failed to stand. Raw naked fear shot through his veins. Fear of this man. Fear of this Father.

"Your belief in God is too weak and you have brought upon yourself the lingering evil being. Your sin." Father paused, regarding the brunet with narrowed fierce eyes. "Weakness."

There was a long lapse of stillness in Sena's mind. Then he heard the voice. The familiar voice he had secretly wished to hear when he first set eyes on the priest tonight.

_Let me embrace you again, Sena. Let me cleanse your soul. Let me destroy this evil that threatens you. Let me. Let me destroy him._

"Yes."

Father raised a slim eyebrow at the brunet.

"Yes, my dear Sena. I will kill him."

Black waves erupted around the man and Father leapt back, hissing and cursing to himself unlike how a holy priest should be. The jet black shadows encircled the brunet and the tanned skin turned a shade of pale grey. He got to his feet and when he turned his gaze at the Father, silver golden eyes smirked from beneath the dark brown bangs.

"Father, the holy priest," grey tongue licked the sharp canines, lips curled up in a sneer, "I will swallow _thy _soul. The holy soul is the greatest power." The man pounced towards the priest.

Father wrenched free the crucifix on his alb along with the stole and swept it in front of him, forcing the brunet to jump back. "Speak your name devil!"

"I am no devil," the man snickered, shoulders hunched and arms hanging limply, "Shadow is I. And Shadow shall my name be."

Shadow jumped at Father again, claws outstretched and canines barred, a hiss breaking through its throat. However, the priest was no ordinary priest. With his crucified stole, he repelled the vicious claws, whipping the holy cloth with snapping ease as if he was _trained _to do it.

"Swallowing my soul?" Father laughed, a grin spreading across his features as he backed Shadow with his attacks, "Look at you. You are merely a wandering evil being possessing a weak human. Any spiritual powers you hold are obliterated by that weak container. You may be sly enough to trick him into letting you have his body, but although you are now able to set foot in the holy church, you have still a long way to go before laying a scratch on I."

"Silence human! Your wretched voice shall no more sound!" Shadow snarled, getting aggravated with every step he took back. It had to admit that this Father was overpowering it. How could that be? Shadow might have been trapped in that sealed iron box for decades but in the Underworld, it was feared by all beings. Truth be told, it was the shadow of Satan. And having leeched Satan's enormous power, Shadow escaped into the mortal world to create an apocalypse upon the humans. What it had not calculated was being sealed by an exorcist. He was not able to purge it from the world because of its great strength.

The end of the stole caught its wrist, putting a halt to both of their movement. Shadow glared at the priest and when it tried to slash off the holy garment, sparks cut across its hands. Pure white sparks.

"Has it ever occurred to you what your weakness is?" Father chuckled, crucifix tight in his left hand.

"Imbecile human!" Shadow screeched.

"You have that wrong," Father smirked, "I am no human."

Those four words silenced Shadow and it glared at the priest with its silver full moon eyes.

"It had been a pain in the ass for me to go high and low searching for you, damned shadow. The only one who recognizes their own shadow is they and I had to walk through the Gates to this rotten world." The blonde spat at the word. "You got the brains to hide your existence from me. It felt like running after myself, but alas, you are just _my _shadow."

Shadow hitched a breath, as it watched with dread the dark aura forming around the priest. "It c-couldn't be . . ."

"Oh yes, it can, _my _Shadow," the priest purred, "Return to your rightful master now."

"No!" Shadow snarled, tugging at the stole. The holy power acquired by Satan from eating priests' souls had made him much more powerful than the last time it knew. "I shall never return to you!"

"Your spirit is no match against me. You may be able to endure dark powers, but you will succumb under the grand holiness." Satan smirked, the crucifix blazing into bright blue flames.

Shadow gasped at the sight, the blue flames travelling along the stole. It tried to pry off the cloth but it did more damage to its flesh. The flames were burning as if oil had been poured and with dreaded realization, Shadow knew that it could not win against Hiruma. Hiruma the notorious Satan. And having a name of his own, Satan became stronger than the previous throne. Shadow often wondered who in the hell named the already overpowering devil. A named and unnamed devil. Shadow did not need a philosopher to tell who would win in an even match. It was the end for it.

A force yanked it back and Shadow found itself in a dark abyss. How?

The blue flames scorched the end of the stole but tanned wrist remained unharmed. Hiruma narrowed his eyes at the human before him. How?

"Stop it . . ." Sena whimpered, using up all his willpower to even stand. "Don't take him away from me."

"You are out of your mind, human," Hiruma growled, glaring emerald shards at the brunet, "Is it not your wish to have your normal life back? To have your _humane shadow _back?"

Sena gasped for breath and steeled himself, forcing his gleaming honey brown eyes on Satan. "My ordinary life. Consists of the whisperings in my ears, the desire to avoid mirrors. And my shadow, my shadow. My shadow moves of its own free will! My shadow has a heart! My shadow is _humane_! Unlike you who lied to human, pretending to be a holy priest but in truth you are mocking God, I accept what had befallen upon me! This is God's desire and by every breath of my life, I will follow His will!"

"I see that you wish to die," Hiruma sneered, the stole releasing its death grip on the wrist. The black flames around him erupted into life, "Then die shall you, and I will take _my _shadow."

Sena buckled at the knees but he refused to fall. His body was throbbing at every inch and his mind was spinning like no worlds. In spite of all the pain, he dropped his gaze upon his shadow casted by the glowing candles. And he whispered: "Your name is Shadow."

Black tendrils shot out of the shadow and Sena allowed himself to be engulfed. At the back of his mind, he heard Satan's roar.

* * *

Half of the church was destroyed, and the townspeople called it a bad omen. Within a week, the entire building was pulled down and a new church was built at another location. A mass was held for the passing of Father Hiruma although no body, burnt or not, had been found in the rubbles. Respect was shown during the sermon but behind hands, people talked about how Father Hiruma had always been distant and prefer to be in the church during the night. Isolating from God and human? Playing with the dark spirits of night? Treacherous towards the Archbishop? All words.

Atop the hills, on looking the mass, Hiruma stood, clad in a travelling cassock, a grim expression fixed. How dare that human take away _his _Shadow right under his nose and scamper of like the rodents that brought plague to this country? He turned away and pulled out the black cap that had once belonged to the human. Smirking to himself, he dusted it off and pulled it over his mess of blond hair. Time to swallow some holy souls and get back the powers he had been leeched off.

_Keep running mortal. But you can never run away from I. I, Hiruma. Satan Hiruma. Run across the world and I will still catch you, rip your throat apart, slice your body into pieces, stomp on your heart, and throw your soul into the burning pit of Tartarus._

_And I will take back my beloved Shadow._

_My Shadow._

**

* * *

**

End—

Please tell me what you think! Because I really like this story! It's inspired by a drawing I did last year. It's actually a request and Sena is a vampire in the picture. But I thought: screw that, I don't want to write about vampires. So I changed Sena into some demon aka Shadow. And yes, it's Shadow!SenaXSena (or ShadowXSena) and HirumaXShadow!Sena (HirumaXShadow). Think I'm weird? You thought right!


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